


A Very Asgardian Royal Ball

by missdorothysnarker



Category: Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-22 19:12:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13173399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdorothysnarker/pseuds/missdorothysnarker
Summary: “I do believe there is, in fact, a Midgardian dynasty with a dozen - give or take - most eligible daughters, renowned for their beauty and great skill in the art of cosmetics. The family name is Kardashian, if I’m not much mistaken.”Thor blanched.“Loki, please tell me you don’t intend to wed me to a Kardashian-”





	1. In Which A Royal Ball is Announced, or Thor Discovers His Appreciation for the Theater

“A... ball,” repeated Thor, dumbfounded. 

“A Royal ball,” Elder Bjornson stressed, nodding his head solemnly. The rest of the council - or what remained of it post-Ragnarok (and post-Loki-as-Odin) made noises of agreement. 

Thor shut his one eye, inhaling deeply. The black-nail-varnished handprints of his brother were all over this folly. 

“But why?” He asked plaintively. “What’s wrong with a feast?”

“My king, I’m afraid you’re missing the point entirely.”

“Loki,” growled Thor at his brother's sudden materialization at the other end of the table. “I might have known.”

“Yes, brother dearest?” Loki simpered. 

“Explain this foolishness as I’ve no doubt it was your idea.”

“Foolishness? You wound me.”  
Loki fluttered his lashes. Thor rolled his eyes.

“You do agree our priority is rebuilding Asgard, or new Asgard as it were?”

Thor nodded. “But I fail to see how a ball-”

Loki held up a hand. “If you’ll let me finish, your majesty.”

Thor sat back. The sooner Loki said his piece, the sooner he could get back to the actual matters of kingship.

“And what does new Asgard need above all to provide hope for a golden future? That’s a rhetorical question, Thor.”

Thor closed his mouth.

“A queen by his side, mother to the future heirs to Asgard’s throne. And what better way to find a suitable bride for my beloved brother than a royal ball hosted by none other than myself inviting all eligible young women throughout the nine realms - yes, including our new Midgardian neighbors, as they do seem to love their royal weddings. And Thor, if I recall correctly, is not entirely opposed to Midgardian maidens.”

Thor stared at Loki, smothering the hysterical giggle rising in his throat. He knew it’d been a bad idea to allow Loki access to the Midgardian entertainment invention of television, but how was he supposed to know Loki would binge watch every single episode of Millionaire Matchmaker?

He tuned back into the conversation - or rather Loki holding forth over his own royal council – at the wrong moment. For Loki caught his eye, and, smiling sweetly, said:

“I do believe there is, in fact, a Midgardian dynasty with a dozen - give or take - most eligible daughters, renowned for their beauty and great skill in the art of cosmetics. The family name is Kardashian, if I’m not much mistaken.”

Thor blanched.

“Loki, please tell me you don’t intend to wed me to a Kardashian-”

“Brother, as king of Asgard, no one could ever hope to marry you against your will.”

Thor sat back, slightly mollified. 

“That being said, I’m afraid it’s too late to withdraw their invitation, or to cancel the ball, as I’ve already sent the invitations out in the mail.”

Lightning crackled from Thor’s knuckles at Loki’s supremely self-satisfied smirk.

+

In the end, to no one's surprise in the slightest, Thor had thrown up his hands and allowed Loki to amuse himself by planning the ball. It would at the very least prevent him from getting into any other mischief. 

Of course, Thor had no intention whatsoever of finding a bride there or declaring a royal engagement with princess or peasant, Midgardian reality star or alien entity. 

But a ball would be a diversion, an opportunity for excitement and merriment that’d been sorely lacking in their halls of late as all focused on rebuilding their home on a foreign planet. 

And if it kept Loki occupied, so much the better.

+

Thor was returning to his cabin - it was his bedchamber, but he’d grown used to the term cabin after so long onboard the spacecraft - when he was waylaid by what looked to be a staged event in a nearby atrium. 

Surely Loki wasn’t intending to put on The Tragedy of Loki of Asgard during the ball supposedly to marry off Thor... but he would put nothing past his brother. And it wasn’t that the play made him look bad, per se, as very vocally despondent, tear- and snot-streaked, devastated by Loki’s death. 

Which wasn’t so far from the truth. Both times he’d thought Loki lost to him he’d been destroyed, with no time to process and recover. 

Good thing then Loki had a fortunate tendency for resurrection.

Thor clenched his jaw. 

He didn’t want to dwell on the pain of the past, on Loki’s numerous betrayals and deceptions.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t get a closer look at this play being rehearsed, especially as his brother appeared to be nowhere in sight. 

Which, as this was Loki, didn’t mean much.

+

If Thor had been hoping to sneak into the back row undetected, he was out of luck. It was times like these he cursed his bulk for failing him in stealth. The actors all turned and bowed to him, thanking him for gracing their humble rehearsal of Loki Have I Loved with his presence. 

“Sorry,” choked out Thor, “What was the name of this... esteemed theatrical production?”

“The full title would be Loki Have I Loved, Thor Have I Hated,” said the unfortunate soul who seemed to be director. “But we rarely use the full title,” he hastened to add, “As the Allfather himself said it was not needed.”

Thor, not trusting himself to speak, waved his hand for them to carry on. 

After all, who could blame him for his curiosity to see the other plays Loki had penned?

The play began with them as young children, the boy playing Loki tiny and angel-faced, large eyes quivering with unshed tears. The boy playing Thor was tubby, to put it mildly, chubby cheeks framed by a golden bowl cut. Trust Loki to make him fat, when really he’d just been big-boned even as a boy.

And it only went downhill from there. 

Boy Thor bullied boy Loki, forcing him to play the part of a swooning maiden to be rescued in their games, teasing him mercilessly when he cried - the small dress rehearsal audience booing boy Thor to the point Thor almost found himself offended, then laughing when little Loki magicked his wooden swords to repeatedly smack boy Thor. 

Really, it was a bit much. Less a definite stretch of the truth then outright fiction. As to be expected from the playwright.

Not that their re-enacted adolescent years fared much better. Let the record note Thor had never had so much acne. And of course Loki’s actor had a flawless complexion. 

These were the years Loki began to get up to mischief, through not malicious yet. 

Thor rolled his eyes as teenage Loki magicked a whole plateful of sweets from under Thor’s nose onto Volstagg's plate, leading to a tussle turned full out brawl over the sweets. 

Ok, so that had actually happened. Thor still liked his dessert. Pop tarts were the treat of kings. Cap’n Crunch wasn’t bad either.

There were audible sighs when Loki was left behind by Thor for adventures with his newfound friends, the Warriors Three - Thor felt a sharp pang at their memory - and Sif. 

Loki got him back for his abandonment by sending a swarm of drill worms to eat holes into the bottom of their boat just as they launched off on a quest to Vanahiem on which Loki has not been invited. The audience laughed as young Thor squawked in panic, limbs flailing. 

“I don’t know how to swim!” 

“Don’t worry Thor,” called Volstagg. “Thanks to your mead belly, you won’t drown, you’ll float like me!” 

Thor rolled his eyes.

Norns forbid a boy had a bit of baby fat before growing brawny. Which it should be noted, Loki never did. Scrawny more like. 

But it suited him. Thor thought of his brother's sharp cheekbones, lean limbs, graceful hands. Opposite in every way, in body and temperament. But complementary, or so Thor always thought. 

He shook the musings from his mind. The third act was beginning and having gotten thus far, he was not about to miss another minute of it.

The third set of actors were youths on the cusp of manhood. Thor was gratified to see his new counterpart was no longer quite so great in girth around the middle, although the thickness of his neck rivaled that of his skull. 

Loki’s actor looked like an elf prince, coal black hair in a braid down his back as he read a book while Thor’s actor flirted boorishly with simpering young palace maids. He was not quite so cocky when he lost at cards repeatedly to Loki, who gave an excellent impersonation of Loki's own smirk as he collected his winnings. 

Thor squirmed watching Odin gift Thor Mjolnir, actor Thor immediately juggling it and throwing it like a boomerang - “Look, Loki! I can fly!” - while Loki, watched face dark. 

Frigga emerged, wreathed in light.

“My son, heavy is the head that wears the horned helm,” 

Loki laughed bitterly. “Heavy is the heart, perhaps.”

“If I had my way, you would wear the crown, Loki.”

Loki looked at her. “Then you are the only one who would have it so.”

“Your father and brother are blinded. They do not see what I see within you.”

She kissed Loki tenderly just below his helmet, his eyes shutting at the touch.

The stage went dark.


	2. A Valkyrie's Advice, or Loki, Stylist to the Stars

Surely that was not the end, thought Thor. What an abrupt, dispiriting conclusion. But it seemed that was indeed the case.

There was a smattering of applause, to which Thor felt obliged to add a few hearty claps of his own, and more than a few damp eyes dabbed at with handkerchiefs.

As he made a beeline for the door to avoid talking to any of his gathered subjects about what he thought of the play, Thor considered hunting down Loki and shaking a few answers out of him. Was that really how he had seen their childhood, or rather remembered it through glasses the sour green of envy and spite?

But he thought better of it. It'd been a long day and he was far too tired for a fraught confrontation with his brother, especially since they'd seem to come to a kind of delicate peaceful equilibrium of late he was loathe to disrupt. 

Thor made his way to his cabin and threw himself on his bed, asleep within moments. His dreams uneasy, haunted by flickering figures of green and red, gold and black. 

+

He managed to avoid seeing much of Loki throughout the following week, not out of any intention of his own. He caught mere glimpses of his brother, always surrounded by a group of Asgardians Loki had evidently selected as part of his team of fellow ball-planners, the head chef for the masses of catering, head florist for elaborate floral arrangements, even apparently hiring a Midgardian conductor to oversee the musical entertainment for the evening. 

It was surreal, even slightly absurd, to see how seriously Loki was taking it all. Thor wondered what his real reasoning was, but had long given up trying to parse his brother's plotting long ago. Likely he was finding it greatly amusing to marry Thor off to a noble crone or tentacled space creature.

Valkyrie finally cornered Thor the night before the ball, demanding answers. 

“Why the hell are you letting him do this, make New Asgard into a farce and you with it as the king of fools? Are you going to let your traitorous little not-brother plan your wedding party and honeymoon voyage too?”

Thor shrugged. 

“Look, I know him better far better than you. A busy Loki is a... happy Loki,” he finished feebly. 

She raised an eyebrow. 

“He could marry you to a hog and you'd thank him for it at this rate.”

“I believe a female hog is called a sow,” said Thor mildly.

Valkyrie threw up her hands.

“Fine. Have it your way. Don't say I didn't warn you when you wake up one day to find yourself with a litter of piglets as heirs to the throne and wonder what happened.”

“I'll name one of them in your honor in that case.”

She made a very rude Midgarian hand gesture in response that Thor could only surmise she'd learned from the Hulk. 

+

The night of the ball Loki finally deigned to see the man of the hour, sweeping into Thor's cabin without so much as knocking first. He looked very dramatic and elegant, in his favored snakeskin green and black, sleek dark hair swept back from his pale face.

“I could have been naked,” said Thor.

Loki sniffed. 

“As if I've never seen you unclothed before.” 

“Not since we were callow youths.”

“Now is not the time for maidenly modesty, Thor. Now tell me, is that really what you're intending on wearing to the ball?”

Thor looked down at himself with his one eye. He looked perfectly fine in his sleeveless leathers, which showed off his powerful arms. Which women liked, did they not?

“What's wrong with what I'm wearing?”

Loki gave a long-suffering sigh, rolling his eyes heavenwards. 

“Really, I have no idea how you fared so long without me. No wonder that Midgardian woman of yours left you, no doubt shamed by your slovenly appearance, utterly unfitting of Asgardian royalty.”

He scanned Thor head to toe, hand under chin. “I'm afraid there's not much I can do about that wretched butchery of a haircut, however. I could create an illusion of your old hair but should any eligible lady come close enough to touch she'd be quite surprised.”

Thor waved his hand. “It's fine, I've gotten used to it. I like it now, it's nice and breezy,”

Loki stared at him, appalled. 

“It's darker at the roots, though. You might not be the only dark prince now, brother,”

Loki tossed his hair.

“Don't be ridiculous. You're still Asgard's golden son. Your hair used to be the color of creamed honey, now it's the color of transparent, fluid honey. Or the amber in which insects are caught.”

Thor looked at him. 

“You know, Loki, I believe your true vocation lies not in event planning but rather hair dye advertiser.”

Loki's eyes narrowed into slits. 

“Still your tongue before I decide to dress you as the ass you are.”

Thor grinned broadly but kept his peace as Loki used his seidr to transform his attire into more regal robes and light armor. He held still as Loki cupped his hand over his eyepatch, polishing it to a bright gleam.

Finally his brother stood back and took him in with a critical eye.

“There, I suppose you'll have to do. You look only half the oaf you are and perhaps some unfortunate Midgardian maid will be your bride.”

As Loki turned on his heel, Thor caught his hand. He wasn't about to let Loki wriggle away so easily before the festivities.

“Thor, the ball begins soon--”

“As it's thrown in my honor I've no doubt I can afford to be fashionably late. I just wanted to say I caught another drama of our group of Asgardian players by the name of Loki Have I Loved, Thor Have I Hated. Ring any bells?”

Loki took sudden interest in examining his nails for chips in the dark slate polish. (It was actually from the Opi collection 50 Shades of Grey; don't ask.) 

“I'm afraid I'm not familiar with that work, although it sounds most compelling. Did you find it enlightening?”

“Loki, enough with the pretense. We both know you wrote it--”

“And? Your point?” hissed Loki, eyes snapping jade green. “Are creative works of art to be censored under this new regime?”

“Of course not, brother. You're free to write and stage whatever you like.”

“Even... treasonous theatrical productions?”

“I'll not suppress artistic liberties or the press, Loki. I'd prefer we discuss our childhood one-on-one rather than perform it for an audience, but you'll do precisely as you wish.”

Loki frowned at him.  
“We can discuss the merits of the artistic license later, Thor. It's time to join our guests at the royal ball I went to such trouble arranging for you.”

Thor rolled his eye and clapped a hand on his brother's back. For a moment he wished he could keep it there, resting in the small of Loki's back, curled around the slender curve of his waist... 

Before he snapped out of it, drawing away. Keeping his hands to himself at his sides, cheeks hot.

“Shall we?”

Thor nodded, throat suddenly very dry.

+


End file.
